Warrior Mark Novels & Stories

With their struggle, I had mistakenly bashed away my warrior and not the Rogue, sending him crashing to the ground a good distance away from the scene. Oops. With the force of the bash, everyone, including me, escorted the warrior with their gazes to see if he was still alive and when he groaned, we all turned back to Rogue who was still standing, free and dangerous. “My Queen, he’s—” A General attempted to speak but I cut him off with a gesture of my hand. I looked at the Rogue who wasn’t actually a Rogue— but a Reignile warrior. I had noticed the mark underneath his arm— a Canine symbol engravement, which symbolized that he was a Reignile warrior as only Reignile warriors could possess suc

Seeing Fane preparing to attack, the fat man cackled as though mocking him for not knowing his place. Every warrior from a second-grade world had special marks on their clothes. Warriors from the Golden Continent had dark gold patterns, while warriors from the Sacred Water Continent had blue clouds. There were intricate patterns on those symbols to prevent replication from other parties, and warriors from second-grade worlds and third-grade worlds knew those symbols by heart. The fat man and the thin man both looked at Fane and Rudy, and they could immediately tell that they were from third-grade worlds.

A location code that resolved, when I cross-referenced Fen's key at the bottom of the page, to Silvercrest territory. Three Silvercrest warriors. Not turned the way others had been turned, not ideological, not raised to it. Marked. The dark spiral notation was in the column beside their names. They'd been physically marked by a Hunter's blade, probably during what looked like a routine border encounter months ago. They were walking around inside Silvercrest's walls with Seraphine's mark already on them. Already trackable. Already hers to trigger whenever she decided the moment was right. "Do they know?" I asked.

The transition was so sudden it made my stomach drop. "There was another gray wolf I fought with," Rhaziel said, his voice cold. "He wasn't a rogue. He was a trained soldier. And he was wearing a mark. A very strange mark I never expected to see after so many years.” "A mark? Like a tattoo?" "A brand," he corrected. "You wouldn’t know what that is, but…” “Just tell me.” He nodded and continued. “It was on the back of his neck. It was a sun being eclipsed by a black spot.”

"You hired these wolves, Avery. I trust your scent for loyalty. They know that what happens within these walls stays within these walls, or they will answer to the Shadow." The servants quickly averted their eyes, none daring to challenge the raw authority radiating from him. Madison, however, leaned in close, her small fingers reaching out to touch the silver scar on his face. Hudson flinched instinctively, turning his head to hide the ruin. "Madison... do you find the mark ugly? Does it frighten the wolf inside you?" The girl shook her head. "No. There's a boy at school who has a scar on his paw from saving a hawk. He calls it his 'Warrior's Honor.' So your mark must mean you’re the greate

His body quaked so violently he could barely remain upright. Damian stepped closer, towering over him. His voice dropped lower, each word a dagger. “You thought hiding behind lies and shadows would protect you? You thought you were clever, Marko? All I see before me is a coward who will die a traitor’s death.” Marko’s pleas turned to incoherent babbling, tears streaming down his face as terror consumed him. Soon, the warrior returned, holding out the dreaded whip—its silver strands glinting under the moonlight, razor-sharp needles woven into each cruel braid.

“What is it?” The warrior held out a dagger, its blade still dripping black ichor. But it wasn’t the weapon that chilled me. It was the crest etched into its hilt. A serpent, coiled around a crown. Kale’s jaw tightened as his golden eyes narrowed. “That’s not Darius’s mark.” My stomach dropped, a shiver racing down my spine. Then whose was it?

My fated mate wants my body and soul… but he still calls me by his missing wife’s name. ____ Framed by her best friend. Rejected by her groom. Cast out by her pack, Savannah’s world shatters. Until Xavier, the Alpha of Alphas, finds her. From the moment their bond ignites, it’s raw and addictive. He touches and kisses her like he can’t breathe without her. But he believes she’s someone else—his missing wife. His daughter calls her “Mommy.” And the mate bond burns hotter than she ever imagined. Savannah has secrets. A past she’ll never speak of. She swore no man would ever own her again. So why does her soul beg to be his?

Laura’s heart dropped the second she heard the name. “Garrick.” A warrior stepped forward from the crowd, and everything about him screamed danger. He moved with deliberate slowness, boots crunching against the packed dirt. His shoulders rolled back lazily, showing off muscle layered over more muscle. Scars crossed his chest and arms—not random marks from accidents, but clean lines that spoke of countless battles. Battles he’d won. This wasn’t some random fighter. This was a veteran and an actual killer.

I said carefully, and the man’s olive-skinned face broke into an amused smile. “That’s funny, neither do I.” He whispered and the hard edge in his voice told me he wasn't a wolf to be messed with. I had heard tales of Markov the Slayer. A white-haired wolf with the power to wield silver swords and not take any damage himself. A feat that exhausted even the great Fedora. There was no doubt that we would need him out there on the field seeing as the elders had refused to give us more soldiers. “To war and bloodshed then,” My smile was full of teethstopping just short of my cold, hard eyes before I snatched a goblet from the outstretched tray of a servant, raising it in the air as the wolves su